


A Lady's Generosity

by estamir



Category: Fire Emblem, Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-06
Updated: 2011-11-06
Packaged: 2017-10-25 18:08:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/273226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estamir/pseuds/estamir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucius is facing a rough winter at the orphanage he's opened in Araphen. Serra has other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lady's Generosity

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for zoifox @ LJ, as part of CFUD's 2009 Secret Santa exchange.

Winter tended to come late in Araphen, but when it did, it came with a vengeance, all snow and howling wind and branches rattling the windowpanes. After five years, Lucius still wasn't sure if he'd ever really get used to it, but even if the cold was no less biting from one winter to the next, experience was a good teacher, and he was becoming something of an old hand at the yearly preparations—at least, he liked to think so.

The first couple of years had been the hardest; although Araphen had seemed welcoming enough of his intentions to give the territory a proper orphanage, material support had been less than forthcoming and the closest church of Saint Elimine had been facing dire financial straits of its own, and balancing the costs and making the decisions of whether to spend that last bit of gold on another blanket or a bit more firewood had left him nearly frantic. A polite, but very _long_ , letter to the marquess had gotten him a bit more help at the last minute, but the experience had been altogether frustrating. He vowed to start making allowances for the season earlier in forthcoming years, seeking more donations in the summer, when the populace had more to give, and though things were always a bit tight, for the past three years he'd managed to successfully keep the orphanage in the black, and avoid most of the close calls that had plagued that first, dreadful winter.

But as he sat down with his records one late night in the sixth year, it occurred to him that perhaps that streak was an end.

It was nobody's fault, really. Certainly not the people of Araphen, for whom the year's harvests had been less than impressive, and yet they'd still managed to help him meet the goals he'd outlined for the year. Certainly not the marquess, either, who'd matched the contributions he'd made in the previous few years, which was all Lucius had ever requested of him. Nor could the fault be laid with the church, who had also been no less helpful than in years past—

—and not, Lucius had decided, after some very careful consideration, himself. He was no seer or fortuneteller, and though the year's harvest had been nothing to brag about, there had been no clear signs that this year's winter would be any worse than the usual. He'd allocated things no less carefully than before. Tempting as it might be to take the blame on himself, there was nothing he feasibly could have done.

But to think that this was simply divine will was perhaps the worst alternative. What comfort was there to find in that? An earthly scapegoat was infinitely more appealing.

He sighed, pushing the carefully written lists and records to the side, and rubbed his hands together. Cutting back on firewood had been his first attempt to conserve. It wasn't as though he needed much heat to sit alone and brood for a bit. But he couldn't cut back too much on the room where the children slept, so there was only so much to be saved in firewood. And there was only so much to be saved in food costs; he couldn't expect such young children to understand the concept of rationing.

 _Is it warmer where you are, I wonder, Lord Raymond?_

He sighed again. Dwelling on Lord Raymond's whereabouts would do little to help with his current predicament.

Still, it was troubling. He'd done so well after that first awful year, come so far, and now to have it all threatened by a whim of nature— _I wanted to do some good, for all of them. I wanted to be useful to_ someone _until Lord Raymond returns. I wanted to_ —

He was torn from his thoughts by a loud thumping sound from the window.

Branches didn't _thump_ in the wind, did they?

After a moment's pause, he was almost ready to write it off as a figment of his imagination, but—no, there it was again, and so he moved towards the window, drawing his cloak a bit tighter around him. He hated to let more cold air in, especially given his own tendency to fall sick more easily in the winter, but—

There was a flash of bright pink as he opened the window, and a high-pitched "it's about _time_!"

Serra.

 _Serra?_

"You should answer your _door_ , Lucius, it's simply _dreadful_ out here! Don't you know better than to keep a lady waiting out in the cold? And on a night like _this_ —"

"I'm terribly sorry, I'll be around to open the door in just a moment." He had to wonder what Serra was doing all the way out here—and at this hour of the night!—but that, he suspected, would come soon enough, and so he made his way around to the front door, where the sounds of an argument were already audible even before he lifted the latch.

"—should've really been the one to knock on the window, not me, Matthew!"

" _I_ told you I could just let the both of us in without bothering. Don't blame me because you wanted to make life more difficult."

"It's terribly _rude_ to do that, you know, and we're here as official representatives of Ostia! Whatever do you think Lord Hector would say if I told him about all of this?"

"He'll be amazed I made it this far without cutting off my own ears, I'm sure," Matthew snorted.

"Oh, Matthew, don't be _silly_ , how would you know what I'm telling you to do without your ears? And besides, I nearly fell into a _snowdrift_ , that's no place for a lady! You have absolutely no sense of chivalry whatsoever and I ought to—"

"I'm...terribly sorry to interrupt," Lucius said mildly. "But you'd prefer to finish this inside, wouldn't you?"

Serra's eyes lit up as she turned to face him. "Oh, Lucius, I knew I could count on _you_ to understand!" She bounded across the threshold, Matthew following and muttering something inaudible (but almost certainly sarcastic, Lucius assumed).

"What—ah, no, we should take this somewhere more comfortable, I'm sorry. Please, this way." It was only a few minutes to show them to the chairs in the next room, a moment more to put another log on the fire (for all that he was trying to conserve, they certainly both looked like they could use it), and finally Lucius folded his hands in his lap and started again. "What brings you two here?"

"Ostensibly, we've been sent by the Marquess of Ostia." Matthew leaned back in his chair. "Though really, it was something a bit closer to Serra not shutting up until he agreed to send her."

"Who else could come but me? Of course it had to be somebody Lord Hector trusted, somebody who will get the job done, and of course, preferably a lady whose beauty might fool the average bystander into thinking that Araphen's orphanage was receiving the blessings of a—"

"You see what I have to put up with?"

"And how tragic, that with such a lovely, radiant, and ever-dutiful cleric on the job, that Lord Hector could only spare a flippant bum of a bodyguard to—"

Lucius coughed. "I'm sorry, Serra, but that...still doesn't tell me why you've come..."

"I was just getting to that!" Serra clapped her hands. "This winter's been rough all over, and I remembered from the last time we'd spoken that you'd had some trouble with everything before. So, with all my charm, I convinced Lord Hector that we should see if you could use any aid from Ostia this year! Aren't I thoughtful?"

Lucius blinked in surprise. "Aid? For us?" He'd entertained just a bit of hope, perhaps, when they arrived. And yet he hadn't wanted to count on anything, and certainly Ostia had to look to its own people first...

Not to mention that Serra had a way of exaggerating things sometimes. He glanced at Matthew, as though for confirmation; he'd never spoken to the thief much, but their time fighting together under Lord Eliwood had at least been enough to prove that Matthew's word was enough.

"Everything she said," he nodded. "Well, maybe not so much about the _charm_ , even if all this was her idea, but—"

" _Matthew!_ " Serra gave a huff of annoyance. "Stop changing the subject." She turned her attention back to Lucius, beaming. "But, yes! We were trying to get here sooner, and not at such a _ridiculous_ hour, but the snow slowed us down a bit and Matthew picked the worst trail into Araphen—"

"—that was _you_!"

"—and we haven't got much with us _now_ , I'm afraid, because we weren't sure what you're running short on. But Lord Hector did send a bit of gold ahead, so you could take care of anything that can't wait until we can bring him back an estimate of what kind of aid you need, and get it all properly brought out from Ostia! Matthew has that, though, Lord Hector was saying something about being unsure whether to leave _either_ of us alone with it. He's so silly sometimes! You should give that to Lucius now, Matthew!"

Matthew took a pouch out from his cloak and tossed it to Lucius, who fumbled and dropped it on the floor. "Oops! Sorry about that."

"No, it's fine, my reflexes have never been—" Lucius scooped it up from the floor, looking at it for a moment as though unsure whether it was really _his_. "I...I don't think I can express enough thanks to Ostia, and to both of you."

"It was the least we could do, really! Lord Hector thought it fitting after everything you did to help him and Lord Eliwood years ago." Serra's voice dropped a bit, to something a littler softer and gentler than her usual shrill, bossy tone. "Besides. It really _did_ need to be done."

He remembered the conversation he'd had with her during their battles with Nergal, all those years ago. _Like you, I grew up...in a strange, sad place..._

It wasn't so surprising that he could rely on Serra to support his efforts. She understood...

...and the cheerful lilt was back in her voice as she added, "But you know, it _was_ awfully good of me, so I'm sure I can think of _something_ you could do to—"

Matthew gave a long-suffering sigh, but Lucius could only smile.


End file.
